“1992 HALF MARATHON”

Published in The Edmundian, Vol. XXXII No.3 (No.213)
Reproduced with kind permission of St Edmund's College, Ware.

“You’re not running in the Half Marathon, are you?” The disbelief seemed to echo endlessly round the school wherever I went. Perhaps the thought of suppurating sores reduced the attraction of such a race, or was it just the necessity of what some called “training”, more properly described as “aimlessly running round the rugby pitches before breakfast in gale force winds, fighting off the sleet”? What made me go in the Half Marathon I am not quite sure, though now, after the injuries have faded into mere memories of agony, I would rather not ask.

This year’s race was the tenth that St Edmund’s has hosted, attracting nearly six hundred courageous (or as most would say, insane) runners from around the country, with some even coming from abroad. Plans had been made for several Edmundians to compete, though once the heavens opened only three of us ran. The rain arrived abruptly about five minutes before we were due to start, though downpours overnight and earlier in the morning had prevented over a hundred runners from reaching the starting posts. An omen perhaps!

Once the starting gun sounded, the otherwise tranquil country lanes of Hertfordshire resounded with the beating of a thousand feet, gulps of anguish and sporadic cries of almost suicidal agony. This year there were also deprecations hurled against the less than charitable rain gods for the deluge they sent just before the race and for the first few miles.

I started – already soaked, keeping up with the mad rush – to turn left near the Bay Horse, though even at this early stage my glasses proved an impediment and were thrown aimlessly towards an unsuspecting, drenched bystander. Much to the disappointment of my thighs, the blistering pace of the start did not slow down, and after the first two miles, from the top of the hill I could still see the leaders some three miles ahead.

The route was new to me as most of my training had taken the form of slow, plodding jogs around the back fields, and the one time I did try the course I got lost.

When completed correctly, the route continues west from the College, through Levens Green, then up a long hill to Potters Green, round to Sacombe Green, then onto Sacombe itself. By this stage I was ready to go ahead with my photogenic sprint finish which I had spent most of my training perfecting. After five minutes of planning such a climax, however, I discovered the five-mile post with the painful thought, “Eight to go.” I trotted round to Dane End to be greeted with surprise at the first water station. Water? It had only just stopped raining! From there I made it to the next water station somewhere further on. The final three miles were harder; I just kept running with a feeling of partial optimism and the thought “Only three more to go.” Such a distance was quite easy for I had completed many three-mile runs before, though never with ten miles to warm up. Seeing the Bay Horse again was satisfying, especially looking the other way towards the finishing posts… a quarter of a mile away. Some time later, with just a few hundred yards to go, I turned the final corner to discover my glasses were no longer where I had abandoned them. Seeing my way to the end would not be easy. In sight of the spectators I thought again of my sprint finish, and so let it all out. I “burnt rubber”, my celerity wearing the soles of my trainers almost through the skin.

I crossed the line in agony though with the pleasure of overtaking a group of four or five runners who were a mere fifty yards ahead when I started my sprint. I finally collapsed with a time of 1 hour 49 minutes, pleased to have broken the 2-hour barrier. Other finishers included Richard Tanner of Royston who won in a time of 1:12:12; Ann Hazel, the first woman to finish, with a time of 1:22:32 and Timmy Sampson of Talbot House who won the Juniors (under-18) category in which I claimed second place.

On behalf of all the runners, I should like to thank those who braved the rain and cold, the marshals, helpers at the water stations, assisting staff (especially Mr Davies who organised the race) and all those who turned up just to watch and cheer us on.

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